Select Poetical Works, Including His Gentle Shepherd: With a Prefatory Memoir of the Author and His Writings

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Сторінка 13 - Jenny. I never thought a single life a crime. Peggy. Nor I: but love in whispers lets us ken That men were made for us, and we for men. Jenny. If Roger is my jo, he kens himsell, For sic a tale I never heard him tell.
Сторінка 4 - Just entered in her teens, Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay. My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wauking of the fauld. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, — I wish nae mair of a' that's rare. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a...
Сторінка 166 - Jeanie, maun plead my excuse ; Since honour commands me, how can I refuse ( Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee, And without thy favour I'd better not be.
Сторінка 16 - With dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een, Should gar your Patie think his half-worn Meg, And her kend kisses, hardly worth a feg ? PEGGY. Nae mair of that ! — Dear Jenny, to be free, There's some men constanter in love than we. Nor is the ferly great, when nature kind Has blest them with solidity of mind ; They'll reason calmly, and with kindness smile, When our short passions wad our peace beguile.
Сторінка 6 - I wish nae mair of a' that's rare; My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld, But she gars a' my spirits glow At wauking o' the fauld. My Peggy smiles sae kindly Whene'er I whisper love, That I look down on a...
Сторінка 169 - She smiles like a May morning, When Phoebus starts frae Thetis' lap, The hills with rays adorning : White is her neck, saft is her hand, Her waist and feet's fu' genty ; With ilka grace she can command ; Her lips, O wow ! they're dainty.
Сторінка 173 - JENNY NETTLES. SAW ye Jenny Nettles, Jenny Nettles, Jenny Nettles, Saw ye Jenny Nettles Coming frae the market ? Bag and baggage on her back, Her fee and bountith in her lap ; Bag and baggage on her back, And a babie in her oxter ? I met ayont the kairny, Jenny Nettles, Jenny Nettles, Singing till her bairny, Robin Rattle's baflard ; To flee the dool upo...
Сторінка 14 - And then he speaks with sic a taking art, His words they thirle like music thro' my heart. How blythly can he sport, and gently rave, And jest at feckless fears that fright the lave ! Ilk day that he's alane upon the hill, He reads fell books that teach him meikle skill. He is — but what need I say...
Сторінка 162 - Polwart on the Green If you'll meet me the morn, Where lasses do convene To dance about the thorn, A kindly welcome you shall meet Frae her wha likes to view A lover and a lad complete, The lad and lover you.
Сторінка 12 - The neibours a' tent this as weel as I, That Roger looes ye, yet ye carena by. What ails ye at him ? Troth, between us twa, He's wordy you the best day e'er ye saw. Jenny. I dinna like him, Peggy, there's an end ; A herd mair sheepish yet I never kend. He kaims his hair, indeed, an

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